Special forces soldier demobilization: Starting from the county government compound, a meteoric rise

International airport, private jet terminal.

Heavy rain.

Several private jets that had been booked long ago to fly to the Cayman Islands were now lying silently on the tarmac, like dragonflies with clipped wings. In the waiting area, the usually impeccably dressed comprador tycoons were now pale-faced, their sweat mingling with the smell of expensive perfume, creating a putrid odor in the air.

"Why hasn't it taken off yet? What are they doing in control tower?!"

A portly man with a large belly was frantically pounding on the marble counter. He was the city's biggest front man for "Project Blue Shield," holding enough debt to bankrupt hundreds of tech startups. Behind him, several henchmen were frantically stuffing top-secret documents, still damp from the heat, into his suitcase.

"Mr. Zhang, the signal... the signal is completely gone." The secretary held up the phone, her voice trembling with tears. "Not only the control tower, but all our overseas accounts were just frozen too. We can't transfer a single penny!"

"What?" Mr. Zhang slumped onto the leather sofa, the light in his eyes instantly extinguished.

Just then, the heavy tempered glass doors of the terminal were slowly pushed open from the outside.

There were no urgent sirens, no noisy footsteps.

Liu Ming wore a long, dark black trench coat, raindrops dripping from his stern features onto the marble floor. Behind him followed Tank and dozens of sharp-eyed members of the special task force in dark blue uniforms.

The oppressive silence instantly plunged the vast waiting hall into a deathly stillness.

Liu Ming walked up to General Manager Zhang, lowered her eyes to look at the encrypted safe he was clutching tightly in his arms, and a mocking smile appeared on her lips.

"Mr. Zhang, it seems this 'vacation' won't be possible."

Mr. Zhang looked up in alarm, his lips trembling violently. "Director Liu... Director Liu, this is all a misunderstanding! We were just on a business trip abroad, and these... these documents are all legitimate trade secrets!"

"confidential?"

Liu Ming turned her head slightly, and Tank immediately stepped forward and snatched the safe. With a crisp metallic snapping sound, the safe was forcibly pried open, and stacks of technical blueprints marked "Top Secret" in red scattered all over the floor.

"Selling out core national semiconductor parameters and illegally transferring 30 billion yuan of strategic research funds."

Liu Ming's voice was soft, yet every word was like a knife: "President Zhang, do you think this is considered a trade secret under Chinese law, or is it treason?"

"take away!"

Tank waved his hand, and two members of the task force, like tigers descending a mountain, dragged the limp Mr. Zhang away.

Similar scenes were playing out simultaneously in secret strongholds in the northern part of the city, Shanghai, and even the Golden Triangle. The underground network meticulously cultivated by the comprador groups for decades was completely reduced to a piece of rotten paper the moment the 3-nanometer lithography machine was turned on.

However, Liu Ming did not show any joy on her face after the great victory.

He held in his hand a nine-fold encrypted financial transaction statement extracted from Mr. Zhang's personal computer. On it, all the lines ultimately converged on an anonymous account called "The Cultivator."

"Boss, we've tracked them down."

Ghost Hand sat in the control center, his fingers flying across the keyboard, but his voice trembled slightly. "Every expenditure from that account points to a courtyard in the western suburbs. That place... is not under the jurisdiction of the local public security bureau, or even the national security bureau."

Liu Ming's pupils contracted sharply. "Where?"

"Xishan Sanatorium, Courtyard No. 3"

Liu Ming's breath hitched slightly. No. 3 Xishan Courtyard—a name that could send shivers down one's spine in the political arena of China. It wasn't inhabited by current high-ranking officials, but by veteran founding fathers who had once stood at the pinnacle of power and set the tone for the nation.

"Prepare the car, let's go to Xishan."

The convoy sped along despite the torrential rain.

An hour later, the heavy vermilion gate of Courtyard No. 3 in Xishan slowly opened.

The courtyard was filled with ancient, vigorous cypress trees, and despite the torrential rain, it exuded a solemn and almost suffocating atmosphere. Liu Ming walked alone up the stone steps and stopped in front of the tightly closed nanmu wood door.

Two guards from the Central Security Bureau, dressed in black Zhongshan suits and with stern expressions, blocked the way.

"Director Liu, the senior leader is resting, please return."

Liu Ming didn't speak, but slowly took out the bloodstained evidence from his pocket, as well as the "Special Investigation Power" letter personally signed by Elder Lin.

The guards exchanged a complicated look, and finally slowly withdrew.

As soon as I opened the door, a rich sandalwood scent wafted out.

In the dimly lit study, an elderly man with a full head of silver hair and a dignified expression sat in an old wicker chair. In his hand was a yellowed photograph, a group photo of him in his youth leading a Chinese industrial delegation across the ocean to introduce the country's first automobile production line.

His name is Zheng Desheng, a former national leader, a towering figure revered by countless scientific and technological workers as the "founder of modern industry."

Looking at this old man who had once appeared in textbooks, Liu Ming felt a mixture of disillusionment and anger that almost burned his blood dry.

"Mr. Zheng, is this your 'last gift' to this country?"

Liu Ming stepped forward and placed the tablet computer, filled with lists of compradors and accounts of treason, heavily in front of the old man.

Zheng Desheng didn't move, not even lifting his eyelids. He continued to stroke the old photograph for a long time before letting out a long, melancholy sigh.

"Little Liu, you've finally managed to find your way here."

Old Zheng's voice was steady, without any trace of guilt, only a kind of indifference born of experience. "Back then, the industrial foundation was built brick by brick by me and everyone else. We were poor then, and we were bullied like dogs."

So I told myself that to get those technologies, we could stop at nothing. We could be someone's student, even their dog. As long as we could get what we wanted, reputation and integrity didn't matter.

"So you've become a protector of these compradors with a clear conscience?" Liu Ming's voice trembled slightly. "For those meager kickbacks on outdated technology, you've crushed the hopes of countless domestic laboratories! Do you know that because of your 'Blue Shield Project,' the hard work of an entire generation of scientists has been wasted!"

"Those are the pains of labor, the inevitable price to pay!"

Zheng Desheng suddenly turned his head, a glint of madness flashing in his cloudy eyes, "Independent research and development? How many people would die, how much money would be wasted! As long as we obey, as long as we stay obediently within the circle they've drawn, this country can live peacefully!"

That 3-nanometer thing you developed is a disaster! It will provoke the wrath of the West and destroy the peace this country has enjoyed for thirty years!

"So you're going to destroy it?" Liu Ming looked at the old man and suddenly felt an unprecedented sorrow.

This former leader, eroded by power and the passage of time, has completely lost his backbone. He no longer trusts his own nation; he only believes in the scraps and leftovers offered by the West, and is even willing to sacrifice the future of his motherland for them.

"The evidence is all here." Liu Ming turned around, no longer looking at that old and ugly face. "Your 'disciples and former subordinates' have already been rounded up by me at the airport. The guards outside this room have also received orders."

Zheng Desheng watched Liu Ming's retreating figure and suddenly let out a chilling laugh.

"Take me away? Liu Ming, ask those kids outside, do you think they dare?"

Liu Ming walked out of the study.

In the courtyard, the members of the task force stood solemnly in the rain, their faces filled with unprecedented entanglement and struggle.

Tank gripped the handcuffs tightly, his palms sweaty. He looked at Liu Ming, his voice hoarse.

"Boss... are we really going to make a move? He... he's Old Zheng. His contributions back then are inscribed on the Monument to the Heroes."

Several guards instinctively gripped their sidearms, though not aimed at the task force, the unspoken resistance felt as heavy as a mountain.

No one dared to issue the order to "arrest".

In Chinese politics, to move against such a distinguished veteran is tantamount to making a grave mistake.

Liu Ming stood on the stone steps, looking at the soldiers who stood silently in the downpour, and then turned back for one last look at the study with its dim light.

The rain hit his face, chilling him to the bone.

He took out his phone, dialed a number, and his voice carried an almost sacred resolve.

"Old Lin, we've caught the fish, but... this Buddha statue is too heavy."